


In The Beginning Was The Safe Word

by Dusty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Agreements, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Clothed Frottage, Clumsy teenage sex, Coming In Pants, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Ice Creams, M/M, Praise Kink, Roleplay, Romance, Smut, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sweet, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: Aziraphale is adorable when praised. Crowley enjoys this too much so keeps praising him. They have to work out a way for Crowley to be benignly wicked to restore balance.





	In The Beginning Was The Safe Word

Obviously Aziraphale would have a praise kink, and Crowley found this delightful. Neither of them were particularly interested in making _the effort_ , but Crowley did enjoy how much his angel glowed when praised. It was like a light bulb finding 200% more wattage all of sudden.

So he praised him. Little things - excellent choice of wine, well made cup of tea, a good cravat, a nifty miracle. And he would watch as Aziraphale glowed, becoming lighter and softer.

It was a daily practice, until one day, when they had just finished an ice cream and an ice lolly on a bench in St James’ Park, Aziraphale softened so much Crowley thought he might melt away altogether, so put his hand on his arm to steady him. ‘Easy now,’ he said.

‘You should be careful,’ said Arizaphale, nervously. ‘You’re being far too good and kind to me. You’ll get into trouble.’

Crowley licked his lips. ‘Quite right,’ he said. ‘I should probably do something wicked to be on the safe side.’

The angel’s eyes dashed to and from Crowley as he tried to appear disapproving. ‘Probably.’

Crowley’s breath hitched. ‘Any.. suggestions?’

‘You could litter,’ said Aziraphale, shifting in his seat. ‘Throw your lolly stick on the ground like that small human just did.’

‘Positively evil,’ said Crowley, disappointed.

‘The small human got a ticking off.’

Crowley pulled a face.

‘Well, you could... throw it at that duck.’

There was a sharp intake of breath from Crowley. ‘Angel! That’s a good one. I’m surprised at you.’

Aziraphale blushed then grimaced. ‘You mustn’t though, not really. It’s not fair on the duck.’

Crowley raised an eyebrow. ‘Shall I throw it at you, then?’

He received an admonishing glare from the angel. ‘If you get anything on my suit, I’ll…’

‘You’ll what?’ Crowley grinned. ‘Thwart my parking space again?’

Aziraphale huffed. Crowley inched along the bench to get closer to him. ‘Come on. Help me. I just need to be wicked in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone, or any suits. If anyone can do it, you can. Such a good angel.’

Aziraphale positively shivered at the words, which undid Crowley completely. With a click of his fingers, he froze time.

The angel stared at the demon, wide eyed. ‘What are you up to?’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Crowley. ‘I want to do something to you that I shouldn’t do.’

‘What!?’ asked Aziraphale, alarmed, suddenly very afraid for his outfit.

‘What about if I kiss you?’ asked Crowley, earnestly. ‘But it’s against your will, so it’s very bad?’

‘Oh! I see!’ said Aziraphale sweetly. ‘Um…’ he thought hard and frowned hard. ‘That wouldn’t be very nice, Crowley.’

‘Well, no. It’s evil. And criminal. That’s the wicked part.’

‘Yes it is,’ agreed Aziraphale sincerely.

‘But you’re not really being molested, it’s pretend.’

Aziraphale blinked. ‘That’s right. We’re both pretending.’

'And so far as anyone knows, I pounced on you, like a… a…’

‘Pervert?’ ventured Aziraphale.

‘Yes, one of those.’

‘I see.’

‘So, can we do it then?’ asked Crowley, as if discussing the weather. ‘Like you say, I need to balance the scales a bit here. Something grabby and creepy should do it.’

The angel’s breathing was a little shallow now, and his fingers were getting tangled up in his thumbs. ‘Yes all right. Just mind the suit.’

‘I will, I promise,’ said Crowley, rolling his eyes and sitting on the edge of the bench. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes,’ answered Aziraphale, leaning back a little. “Oh wait!’ he cried.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Crowley, concerned.

‘This kiss, will it involve _that_ going in my mouth?’

‘You mean this?’ He poked out his tongue and wagged it at Aziraphale.

‘Yes.’ Aziraphale said, looking away and down at his hands.

‘Not if you don’t…’

‘No, it’s okay,’ stuttered the angel. ‘You should make it authentic.’ His cheeks were pink.

Crowley shrugged. ‘Right. Well then. Prepare to be…’

‘Fiendishly assaulted?’

‘Yes exactly. Oh - and obviously, you can slap me afterwards, because I’ve offended your honour and... stuff.’

‘Slap you? Oh I don’t think…’

‘Please? For my sake?’

‘Oh all right. But you’re buying dinner.’

‘Deal.’

‘Come on then. Do it. Be… not very gentle.’

Crowley couldn’t help but trace Aziraphale’s jaw with a slender white finger as he leaned in. And then, a lunge. Aziraphale held onto the bench for dear life, like a white-knuckle ride, as Crowley planted his mouth on the angel’s. Both of them forgot to breathe. After a few seconds, Crowley pulled away with a smacking noise. They stared at each other.

Aziraphale suddenly remembered himself. ‘How dare you, rapscallion!’ he exclaimed.

Crowley appeared crestfallen. ‘Oh, I forgot the tongue thing,’ he sighed.

‘Oh,’ said Aziraphale gently. ‘Well, you could always…’

Crowley’s mouth returned to Aziraphale’s with a vengeance, and as forewarned, the insertion of his skillful tongue. Aziraphale had never engaged his own tongue in this sort of activity before. He was astounded by how nice it felt. He had assumed the sensors on the tongue were for meals only. He pushed back against the pressure, and tried to match Crowley’s monstrous movements. The kiss was hungry, forceful, filthy, and utterly reciprocated. His hands moved from the bench to Crowley’s back to pull him close, as the demon’s fingers snaked through the angel’s fluffy yellow hair.

Aziraphale could feel his body tingling in more places that he could remember registering at any time previously in the last 6000 years. It occurred to him he was being a very bad angel. He tried to move away, but Crowley held him in place.

‘Mmmmpph!’ said Arizaphale into Crowley’s mouth.

‘Mmmmmm?’ replied Crowley.

‘Mmm,’ resigned the angel softly, his hands travelling down from Crowley’s back to his hips. Somehow, the demon was now lying on top of him on the bench. Crowley involuntarily rutted, causing them both to freeze. They gaped at each other in panic.

‘Slap me!’ said Crowley, weakly.

‘I can’t,’ whimpered Aziraphale.

‘You are going to get us both into so much trouble!’ whined Crowley.

‘Hold me down!’ hissed Aziraphale through gritted teeth.

Crowley glared at him. ‘Careful what you wish for, angel,’ he said dangerously. They were face to face, their bodies flush together. ‘I’m not sure I can completely control this,’ continued Crowley groggily, wriggling a little. ‘I think I activated something.’ He anxiously studied the angel’s face.

‘Yes, I can feel it,’ said Aziraphale, his voice gravelly. He pressed his own hardness against Crowley’s, surprising both of them. ‘And I don’t want you to control it,’ he breathed. His eyes were dilated, as they often did when Crowley praised him. ‘I want you to…not stop.’

Crowley stared into those eyes. ‘ _Arizaphale_ ,’ he warned. ‘This doesn’t work if _you_ misbehave. Be a damsel in distress or I’ll…’

A slap - a weak one, but a palpable slap, struck Crowley’s cheek. Crowley was momentarily stunned. Aziraphale was horrified he’d managed to do it. Crowley deftly caught Aziraphale’s wrists and held them above his head, glaring down at him as if waiting for something.

Aziraphale gasped at being manhandled in such a manner, but it did prompt him nicely. ‘Get off me, you brute!’ he cried. ‘Oh my honour!’

Crowley smirked then kissed Aziraphale again, forcefully, and Aziraphale thought he might pass out. He squirmed underneath his demon, in faux struggle, all the while ardently returning the kiss, just as before. Crowley pushed down against them, and they felt their human bodies reaching for one another. They moved together instinctively.

Aziraphale broke off the kiss, and in a very pathetic voice cried, ‘stop, stop! You mustn’t, um, desecrate me!’

Crowley stopped in surprise, but witnessed Aziraphale’s little wink, swollen lips, pleading eyes and sweet smile, concealed as it was just a few centimeters under Crowley’s own face. The demon’s eyes flickered with mischief, their golden colour dancing in the angel’s own blue eyes.

Crowley started to grind against him. ‘I will, though!’ announced Crowley, melodramatically. 'I will desecrate you, angel. I will, I will taint you with my… demon… ness… oh.’ He mouth returned to Aziraphale’s with a kiss that was far gentler than before, seeking out that tongue that wrapped around his so perfectly. The friction between them a highly unexpected pleasure.

They kissed and kissed and kissed, the strategy falling away completely as the pressure built. Crowley fell on Aziraphale, hands releasing his wrists gripping the angel’s shoulders for leverage, and rutting mindlessly. ‘Oh, oh - oh fuck,’ he stammered, his mind blown. He held on tightly to his angel, overwhelmed by a rush of desire, of guilt, of pleasure, of...love.

Aziraphale held him, sending reassurance, knowing Crowley was unravelling and being both devilishly delighted and mesmerised. _A little bit of the voyeur_ , he thought to himself. And he was adoring the feeling of Crowley’s face buried in the crook of his neck, and the hot little gasps against his skin as the demon’s movements quickened. Crowley was getting further and further away from his senses and it was making Aziraphale dizzy.

‘Wicked boy,’ he scolded Crowley softly. ‘So wicked. Lustful, greedy. You must be some sort of demon to defile me thus. A very, very bad demon.’

The noise Crowley made in response to those words was utterly unholy, at which point they realised they _shared_ the praise kink. If it were at all possible, the pleasure intensified.

Aziraphale was happy with his new found power. ‘You, Anthony J Crowley, are a very evil demon indeed. You’re cunning and devious, and sneaky, and vile and terrible and I am appalled by your smouldering sinfulness…’ his words cut off as a moan escaped his lips, the pressure in his groin building as Crowley’s relentless humping gained speed. The demon was whimpering.

Aziraphale stroked the back of his head very gently and remembered something he’d read once about erogenous zones. ‘Lick me,’ whispered Aziraphale, pressing Crowley’s face into his neck. ‘Please.’ He blushed a brilliant red. He felt the demon’s wicked tongue dart out and clumsily lash against his throat, and his eyes rolled back. He arched against Crowley’s slender body, fingers gripping the skinny backside, driving his hips to meet his own. They groaned together, their thrusts taking on a life of their own. Aziraphale wondered if this was demonic possession, then decided he didn’t care.

‘Oh dear,’ intoned Arizaphale, sensing he was losing his mind as they rubbed against each other roughly through layers of clothing. ‘We’re going to do it aren’t we!’ he squeaked.

With his own deliciously wicked surrender, and that artful mouth suckling at his neck, Aziraphale felt his body overtake him. He bucked in a sudden wave of ecstasy, that delighted and frightened him in equal measure. His involuntary cries undid Crowley, who gave a quick scream, then steadily and thoroughly rolled his hips against Aziraphale with a series of filthy grunts. Hot ejaculate soaked through their clothing and pooled between them, a sensation which they both noted was far from unpleasant, and they rode out every undulation with utter abandon.

For a little while, they were a heap of contented moans until they came to their senses.

‘The suit,’ Aziraphale whined.

Crowley rolled to the side to take a good look. There was an incriminating stain on the front of the cream trousers. Crowley’s black jeans were better designed for hiding such indiscretions.

Aziraphale gasped at the terrible thing he’d done. 'Oops,' he said.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Crowley softly, leaning forward and planting a kiss right on the angel’s damp patch, an action which made Aziraphale feel faint. Just like that, the mess disappeared.

‘Oh, I was rather enjoying that!’ said Aziraphale.

Crowley gave him a stern look. ‘Do you want it back?’

‘Better not,’ the angel said sheepishly.

‘Was that your first... explosion?’ asked Crowley.

‘Um, no. I experimented once, in Mesopotamia. But it was nothing like that.’

Crowley snorted.

Aziraphale stroked his thigh. ‘You’re still a mess.’

‘I know.’

The angel waved his hand, returning the favour.

‘Oi. I was enjoying that,’ jeered Crowley.

Aziraphale gently patted his bottom. ‘Behave yourself.’

‘Too late for that, angel. Better re-start time, I suppose.’

‘Wait...’ Aziraphale leaned in and kissed him, sweet and chaste.

Crowley sighed. ‘We’ve done it now. Should have just thrown the thing at the duck.’

‘Yes. Probably.’

‘Right,’ said Crowley, clicking his fingers and restoring time. He stood, popping his sunglasses on. ‘Seeing as you messed that up, you’re buying.’ He started to saunter towards the Ritz.

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open. ‘I didn’t mess it up!’ he argued with flamboyant indignation, chasing Crowley down the path.

'Yes you did!' growled Crowley. ‘We agreed how it would go and you chose that of all moments to get…’

‘To get what?!’ cried Aziraphale.

Crowley turned and peered at his angel, who was still very pink, over the top of his shades. ‘Horny,’ he chided, demonically.

Aziraphale properly pouted. It was, of course, adorable.

Crowley tried to ignore it and continued sternly. ‘As for calling me all the names under the sun, or over the hellfire…’

‘You loved it!’ blurted the angel.

Crowley pointed a finger at him. ‘But you, oh glowy one, have been a very naughty angel. So now we have to rebalance that.’ He swaggered onwards and Aziraphale followed.

‘I’d say you successfully tempted me to play a game that got out of hand,’ chirped Aziraphale. ‘And yes. I will buy you dinner. But you are forgetting a rather important element, Crowley.’

‘Which is?’ asked the demon as he skulked along. 

‘Love.’ Crowley turned sharply and Aziraphale tensed. The angel continued, twisting his hands nervously. ‘I mean, something wicked happened, and something loving happened. So it.. It balances out. Can’t you feel it?’

Crowley grit his teeth. Aziraphale worried if he might shout at him, or push him against something. It must have been clear from his body language, because what Crowley did next was kind.

The demon removed his sunglasses, gave the angel a sincere look, and planted a tender kiss on his lips. He smiled. ‘Yes, I can feel it.’

Aziraphale beamed like sunshine. Crowley grinned at him. He replaced his shades and walked on. ‘But Aziraphale?’

‘Yes, Crowley?’

‘I think you and I are going to need to have a little chat about the ongoing nuances of our Arrangement. Not to mention, a safe word.’

‘A safe word?’ the angel tried to keep up with the sauntering. They were almost at the Ritz.

‘Yes, a safe word, for both our sakes. And when someone says that word, everything stops, so no one gets carried away.’

‘You mean me?’ Aziraphale complained petulantly.

‘I mean _me_.’

‘I like you getting carried away.’

Crowley stopped just short of the entrance and turned to Aziraphale once more. There was an odd silence before he spoke, along with lots of jaw clenching. ‘Not too fast for you?’

Aziraphale gulped down the surge of emotion this provoked, and bravely closed the space between them, eyes shining. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘But you’re right. Let’s agree a speed from now on. And a word.’

Crowley sniffed and looked away for a brief second. ‘Deal,’ he announced, and swept up the steps to the Ritz.


End file.
